


The Blue Dress

by Ophiel



Series: Lyrium and Faith [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4922068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophiel/pseuds/Ophiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dust barely settles in the Inquisitions new keep of Skyhold. Evelyn, now known as the the Inquisitor, is haunted by nightmares. She tries to find solace, until a Garret Hawke appears with a worrying lead and too much charm for his own good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blue Dress

Voices echoed here. The world swam in reflections, as if seen through rippling water. Dolls were on the ground, seen from the perspective of a child. Beautiful dolls, porcelain faces looking up warmly. Two chubby hands reached down to hold the dolls, hands of a child. Evelyn watched those hands pick one up and stroke its hair tenderly. Then a scream as the doll’s hair burst into flame with at her touch, the porcelain face scarring the way Envy burned hers. “Mama!” her voice echoed, frightened, small, confused.

 

The room fell away with the clanging of a door. Locks bolted in the darkness. Hands pounded on the inside of a cell door. Each banging bursting with sparks and lightning and fear. The banging went on for an infinity, echoing in the darkness. “If you had not been there-” Cassandra’s voice echoed above the child’s futile pleas for help.

 

Cassandra’s voice boomed. “Do it!” The Breach was overhead, flashing green above the broken and battered statue of Andraste in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Rocks and crystals burst from pure ether, snapping in the air before fading back into nothing. Evelyn saw a hand rise to the swirling sky, a flash of green from the palm. The whole world was green and black and red. “Do they know of your petty fears?” she heard the voice of Envy. “Your petty fears? You don’t know how worthy you are!”

 

She heard her own voice, hollow, yelling back, “Come claim your prize!” Envy burned in the Breach’s wake, lightning falling from the heart of the storm, the demon’s screams filling her ears.

 

The Breach burst into a million pieces, her arm gripped by a skeletal hand. She stared now into red eyes, dangling from the grip of the monster before her. “What is this thing meant to do?” she growled in pain, her mark flaring brightly in the red glow of the flames around them.

 

“It was meant to bring certainty where there was none,” Corypheus said. “For you, the certainty that I would always come for it.”

 

She screamed as the mark set her nerves on fire, fear burning into rage as the fire burned them both, the skin from Corypheus’s face melting before her eyes as her own began to sear.

 

She whimpered, startling out of the nightmare as bits of metal went skittering across the table at the flick of her hand. “Inquisitor,” she heard beside her. “Are you alright?”

 

She looked up at Josephine, staring down at her in concern. It was bright now, sunlight streaming in through the windows of the War Room. Cullen and Leliana watching her with concern as they stood by the table. Evelyn realized her eyes were wet with tears. She wiped them. “I must have dozed off,” she murmured, sitting up in her chair in the War Room.

 

“Dozed off? It is already morning,” Leliana said. “You must have been here all night.”

 

Evelyn ran her hands over her face. “I- I guess I was,” she said, trying to gather her thoughts. “What are we doing?”

 

“The morning meeting, you said,” Cullen said, watching her. His concern was clear on his face. At times, he was as transparent as a village girl.

 

“We heard you screaming,” Josephine frowned. “I should… send for Solas? Mother Giselle?”

 

Evelyn forced a smile, standing up and replacing the scattered map markers. “No,” she said. “A strong cup of tea and a wash would be fine.”

 

“I’ll see to it, Inquisitor,” Josephine said slowly, heading to the door. Cullen followed her.

 

Leliana’s fingers delicately picked up the map markers scattered on the floor. She moved with a grace that Evelyn could only dream of. “Perhaps you should fix your hair,” Leliana smiled. “It looks a right mess. And you have ink on your face.”

 

Evelyn swore, running her fingers through her hair. “All three of my advisors saw my morning face?” she chuckled wrily. “Wonderful.”

 

Leliana chuckled and went to wipe the ink from Evelyn’s cheek. “There, all gone. It happens to the best of us, Inquisitor.”

 

“I must look as horrible as I feel,” she grunted, cracking her neck.

 

“If that is true, you must have had a truly bad night.”

 

“Moderately,” Evelyn admitted.

 

Josephine returned. “Commander Cullen has gone to the kitchens,” she said.

 

“Why?” Evelyn blinked.

 

“Do you really have to ask?” Leliana laughed knowingly.

 

Evelyn blushed at that. “He’s a kind man, there’s nothing mysterious about it. Stop laughing mysteriously, Leliana.”

 

“Of course,” Leliana said primly.

 

“The Commander and I were talking,” Josephine said, holding her clipboard on her hip as she always did. “I think it would be best if we postponed the meeting till the afternoon at least.”

 

“I agree,” Leliana spoke quickly as Evelyn was about to protest. “It is only for a few hours. The world will keep until you’ve at least had breakfast.”

 

Evelyn sighed in resignation. “As my advisors… advise,” she said, bowling theatrically. “I should at least have a bath, I think.”

 

“We advisors shall refrain from comment at this juncture,” Leliana beamed at her.

 

“Leliana!” Josephine chided. “But yes, it would do you well to-”

 

“Look in a mirror,” Evelyn smiled. She glanced at the door. “Is Cullen coming back?”

 

“He knows the meeting is postponed. Are you sure you’re alright?”

 

“I am,” Evelyn smiled, lying with every fibre of her being.

 

++++

 

She was surprised to see servants walking in and out of her quarters as she climbed the stair to her tower room. They bowed when they passed her as she returned nods of acknowledgement. She opened her room door to see, of all the blessed things, a hot tub of water before her fireplace and tray of food on her desk.

 

So he’d gone to the kitchen, had he? She caught herself smiling foolishly and stopped. Nightmares forgotten, she hummed as she undressed, wondering if this was truly all Cullen’s work.

 

The bath was rejuvenating, loosening her stiff muscles enough so that she did not feel like a twisted scarecrow. She dressed in a soft green tunic and fresh breeches, the linen draping her curves.  She sat down to her meal at her desk. It was soldier’s food - meaty gruel, warm spiced wine and fresh, hot bread. “Yes, this has Cullen all over it,” she said to herself, spooning a bit of the gruel.

 

“Ooh. What has Cullen all over it?”

 

“Hello, Dorian,” she said, not looking up as she dipped the bread into the gruel. “They don’t knock in Tervinter?”

 

“They do,” said the mage as he sauntered into her apartment. “I don’t, of course. We pariahs are above such social niceties.”

 

“What if I had been in the bath?”

 

“Then I would have seen a naked woman, Maker have mercy.” He sank down on her couch, acting like he owned the place, of course.

 

Evelyn laughed despite herself. “My, my, wouldn’t that be the end of the world?” she asked.

 

“I thought you’d like to continue your dance lesson,” Dorian said.

 

“Maker’s breath,” Evelyn sighed. “Now, Dorian? Really?”

 

“Aha! I thought you’d say that. Being a friend, I should show concern and allow you something less strenuous. Which is why the tailor is coming up in ten minutes.” Evelyn groaned, running her hand over her face. “You’ll thank me, trust me. Vivienne engaged him. I hear he works wonders. And he brought a few samples.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Halamshiral, of course,” he said. “Surely you’re going to need a dress. If not, to entertain the nobles that swarm about Skyhold like flies, at least.”

 

“I’m fine with that I’m wearing. Josephine has some uniform.”

 

“Maker forbid,” he rolled his eyes.

 

True to his word, the tailor did politely enter the room ten minutes afterwards. He was an old man with squinting eyes and hair that hung in strands around his balding head. He did indeed have samples, gowns from Val Royeaux and Antiva that were flowing, delicate and accenting to the curves in a way her mage robes were not.

 

“How am I paying for this, exactly?” she asked Dorian as she looked herself in the mirror.

 

“I’m going to pretend the Inquisitor did not just ask that,” Dorian sipped from a goblet of wine, his ankle on his other knee as he lounged on her couch.

 

She wore a flowing gown of royal blue, the cloth draping her hips and fluttering like flowing water when she moved. Her eyes glowed. It reminded her of before all this, when she used to visit her mother in the Trevelyan Estate. There were always balls and dresses like this. She rested her hands on her hips, watching the tailor adjust the bumroll. “I love this…” she breathed, looking over her bare shoulder at the mirror. “Reminds me of home.”

 

“It’s the season’s colour, Vivienne assures me. Apparently, Celine loves it.”

 

“Then I should not wear it,” she said. “We wouldn’t want to show up the Empress. But I do love this dress!”

 

There was a knock on the door then.

 

“Come in,” Evelyn called, missing Dorian’s smirk.

 

The door clicked and footsteps climbed the staircase. “You sent for me, Inquisi-” She turned at the sound of Cullen’s voice. He stared at her, his eyes wide.

 

“Commander!” Dorian grinned. “It’s about time you got here. You’re advice is required.”

 

“About what?” Cullen asked, glaring at Dorian.

 

“Dorian!” Evelyn frowned at him.

 

“What? We need military advice!” Dorian blinked innocently. “What do you think of the dress, Commander? Anywhere to hide weapons?”

 

“Why are you asking me this?” Cullen asked wearily.

 

“Because you’re the man in a fur shawl with beeswax in his hair,” Dorian shrugged. “For a hardened commander, you have an interesting sense of style.”

 

“I do not have bees-” Cullen blurted as if caught with his pants down.

 

Evelyn laughed. “He has a point,” she said playfully. “Thank you for the meal and the bath, by the way, Cullen.”

 

“You’re welcome-”

 

“Come, come, Commander. What of the dress?”

 

Cullen looked Evelyn over, his honeyed eyes softening. Evelyn felt the warmth rise from inside her, the blush threatening to set her aglow right from her stomach.

 

“It’s… very nice,” Cullen said, slightly distant.

 

Evelyn felt her heartbeat flutter.

 

“It would, of course, look better on the floor, wouldn’t it Commander?” Dorian piped up calmly, refilling his goblet with wine.

 

“Dorian!” Evelyn and Cullen exclaimed in unison. Evelyn’s cheeks glowed pink.

 

“Speaking together now? A match made in heaven! You’re blushing, by the way.”

 

“I’m not!” Evelyn retorted, blushing more.

 

Cullen sighed. Evelyn noticed that he was indeed blushing. He turned to her. “Did you need me for something, Inquisitor?” he asked.

 

“No,” she said, glaring at Dorian darkly. “I just wanted to thank you for the food and the bath. It was just what I needed.”

 

“You’re welcome,” he smiled, his eyes aglow with affection. He cleared his throat. “The dress is beautiful, by the way. On you.”

 

She smiled at him shyly. “Thank you.”

 

“I’ll see you in the War Room, then.”

 

“Yes. Later.” He turned to leave.

 

“Oh, you little minx, acting all coquettish! You’re welcome, by the way,” Dorian said when the door shut behind Cullen.

 

“Dorian!” Evelyn snapped. “Why did you do that?”

 

“What? I needed advice. The Commander does not realize that the dress itself is a weapon. No need to thank me. You both could make it up to me by naming your firstborn Dorian.”

 

“That would be horrendous! Dorian Rutherford?”

 

Dorian shuddered. “You’re right. Forget I said anything. I do wish you’d both hurry up instead of making eyes at each other all the time.”

 

“I don’t need a Tervinter telling me about my love life,” Evelyn said haughtily.

 

“Oh, you Marchers, so quaint with your self-sacrifice. You’re working to save the world, Evelyn. Shouldn’t you let yourself find out what makes this world worth saving?”

 

She found her eyes drawn to the mark. “We’ll see,” she said thoughtfully.

 

In the end, she decided to keep the blue dress.

 

++++

 

“With Duke Gaspard about, I can guarantee that there will be soldiers swarming the place,” Leliana was saying as they poured over a map of Halamshiral on the War Table. “He will most likely bring in his own soldiers, in case they are needed.”

 

“Because peace talks are precisely where you need soldiers,” Cullen grumbled.

 

“Biggest sword, biggest voice, Commander,” Evelyn said, looking down at the map. “Ask Bull. Either way, we will need to have our own soldiers in there as well, besides our Honour Guard.”

 

“We have our most elite soldiers ready for the Guard,” Cullen said.

 

“I know. They will suffice around us, but we need something to tip the scales, if needed. Power at a point. Are they enough?”

 

“You cannot bring in soldiers to the Winter Palace,” Josephine insisted. “It is madness. You would offend everyone at best! At worst, we may be viewed as trying to sabotage the talks!”

 

“I’m not going to gamble the Inquisitor’s life over the opinions of those noble fops,” Cullen said. “We need soldiers in there.”

 

Josephine held her tongue even as she glanced at Cullen.

 

“Both of you make good points,” Evelyn said placatingly. “Can we work on finding a way to get them in without being seen? Quietly? Have you any way to infiltrate the place, Leliana?”

 

“I do. My agents and I will find ways to lead the soldiers in,” Leliana said.

 

There was a knock on the door then. “Enter,” Evelyn said.

 

A messenger stepped in, donned in the hood that marked him as one of Leliana’s agents. He bowed.

 

“Master Tethras sent me to inform you that his friend has arrived,” said the agent. “He asks that you meet him on the battlements at your earliest convenience.”

 

Evelyn nodded. “I will be with them shortly.” She stood up as the messenger left. “Excuse me, I don’t think this can wait, if this friend supposedly has information on Corypheus. Let me know what your plan for infiltration is when I get back.”

 

The sun was shining long golden rays as she headed out to the battlements. The breeze gently tossed the leaves of the trees, running its fingers through her hair as she walked up to Varric. “There you are,” she said as the dwarf took a long drag from a bottle of wine.

 

“Have you seen the Seeker, Sparky?” Varric asked, looking shifty.

 

“She’s at the stocks, of course,” Evelyn said slowly. “Why?”

 

“Er, nevermind,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him. He headed towards a door in one of the battlement towers.

 

“Who am I meeting, Varric?” Evelyn asked as he pushed open the door. Inside, the shadows of the room were faintly lit by a candle, though light streamed in through a broken wall that overlooked the courtyard. A travel-weary man sat at a table, bread and cheese on a plate. He wore armour that looked almost… darkspawn. Primeval, violent. A heavy matt steel gorget at his neck, pointed pauldrons and a gray wolf fur lining to his armour that reminded her of Cullen. He had dark hair and a beard that made him look rougishly attractive.

 

He met her eyes, his own blue just like hers. “Inquisitor,” he said, dusting his hands.

 

“And you are?”

 

“Inquisitor, meet Garret Hawke,” Varric said. “The Champion of Kirkwall.”

 

“Though I don’t use that title anymore,” Hawke said in a voice that could rally masses.

 

“Hawke, meet Evelyn Trevelyan, the Inquisitor,” Varric said. He turned to Evelyn. “I figured you could use some friendly advice about Corypheus.”

 

Evelyn glanced at Varric knowingly. “Cassandra may not take this well,” she said evenly.

 

Varric laughed slightly nervously. “Well, we’re not here to talk about that. Since Corypheus at Haven, I figured you two should talk. Hawke and I did fight him, after all. I’ll just... stay here.” The dwarf pulled up a chair at the table and nursed his bottle of wine.

 

Evelyn pulled up a chair as well and sat down, adjusting her vest. Hawke poured her a cup of wine. He looked out at the courtyard. “Impressive view,” he said. “You know, I'm not really sure what I can tell you."

 

"I don't know," Evelyn shrugged. "You did stop stop a horde of rampaging Qunari. You could give me a tip or two."

 

"I hardly see how that applies. Or do you have a horde of Qunari I should worry about?"

 

"We have a Qunari. He qualifies as a horde all by himself. However, the Qunari are actually one of the few people not trying to denounce or kill us. I'd like to have that last, at least until Corypheus is dealt with."

 

"That's where I'm not sure how I can help."

 

“You’ve fought Corypheus before,” Evelyn said, looking at him intently.

 

“Fought and killed,” Hawke replied. “He was being held by the Grey Wardens. Somehow, they were being influenced by him.”

 

“He was getting into their minds, messing with their heads,” Varric added.

 

Evelyn frowned, a suspicion gnawing at her. “And here the Wardens have conveniently disappeared,” she sighed. “I don’t suppose they went on vacation?”

 

“Probably not,” Hawke smiled slightly over the rim of his cup. “Though I hear Rivain is wonderful this time of year.”

 

“Blast,” Evelyn frowned. “They might have fallen under his control again.”

 

Hawke nodded.

 

She looked down into her goblet. “Tell me,” she said. “What happened to the Wardens you faced before? Could they be freed from him?”

 

“The ones we fought, not so,” Hawke said. “He was turning them against each other somehow. We managed to kill him, however, with the uncorrupted Wardens’ help.”

 

“How?” Evelyn’s voice was eager, her eyes going hard.

 

“We stabbed him. A lot. He was dead on the ground when we left. I stabbed him a few more times just to be sure myself.”

 

“That sounds prudent,” Evelyn nodded.

 

“You may not appreciate the fact, Inquisitor. He was truly dead on the ground. How be returned to life is a mystery. Which is why when Varric sent word that Corypheus sacked Haven, I began to investigate. I sought out my contact in the Wardens who was helping investigate something unrelated for me. His name is Stroud. He spoke of corruption in the Warden ranks the last time we met. Since then, nothing, however.”

 

“Corruption?” Evelyn frowned thoughtfully. “I hope this isn’t what it looks like. An Ancient darkspawn magister arrives, one who’s known to corrupt Wardens, and the Wardens themselves suddenly disappear.”

 

Hawke nodded gravely.

 

“This Stroud, is he influenced by this corruption?”

 

“We don’t know,” Hawke admitted. “I am supposed to meet him in Crestwood in a week’s time. I think it would be best if you were to meet him yourself.”

 

She weighed the time table in her head. Three days to Crestwood, hopefully enough time to get to the bottom of this.

 

"Come with me, Ser Hawke. You should meet my advisors."

 

"Garret, please." He stood up to follow Evelyn.

 

Varric waved them off. "I'll just... wait here." Evelyn nodded and left with Hawke.

 

"You know, in the beginning, I kept insisting that they call me Evelyn as well," she shared as they descended the staircase from the battlements.

 

"You grow accustomed to it."

 

"That you do."

 

"Unless you meet someone new, of course. It shows humility and helps me make a good impression with a striking lady."

 

She chuckled. "Yes, that admission is very humble indeed." She led him through the keep, past the main hall and into Josephine’s office adjoining the War Room. The three advisors stopped and looked up at them. Leliana smiled knowingly.

 

“And you are-” Josephine began.

 

“Garret Hawke, my lady,” Hawke replied, giving her a charming bow.

 

“This is Lady Josephine Motilyet and Sister Leliana,” she introduced. “And this-”

 

“Is Cullen.” Garret grinned.

 

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Cullen said drily. “Last I heard you were running from the Chantry.”

 

“Really? I barely kept track of those crazy days. Abominations, blood mages, mad Knight Commanders raising statues with red lyrium and the like,” Hawke grinned at Cullen.

 

“Focus, Ser Hawke,” Evelyn said primly, gesturing for him to take a seat at the table.

 

“Garret, please.”

 

“I didn’t know you and Cullen knew each other,” she admitted.

 

“Hawke had a knack for showing up where he was needed,” Cullen admitted. “I trust this time is no different. While it’s nice to see you still alive, why are you here, may I ask?”

 

“He has brought us a lead on a possible link between Corypheus and the Wardens,” Evelyn said, her voice serious once more. She leaned back and steepled her hands on the arms of her chair as she crossed her leg. “Se- Garret, kindly debrief my advisors.”

 

Hawke began to speak. The information he shared was similar to what he had shared in the tower. He spoke until the candle on Josephine’s clipboard burned low.

 

“Any inputs, Leliana?” Evelyn asked finally.

 

“The reports of the Wardens disappearance have not changed, we’ve yet to discover where they have gone. I have had no word that Corypheus was previously their captive,” Leliana replied.

 

“Then they may be lost,” Josephine said worriedly. “Could they be-”

 

“No,” Cullen insisted. “It only took two Wardens to save Ferelden from the Blight. They are not defeated so easily. And yet…”

 

“And yet they have vanished,” Evelyn frowned, glaring at the map, willing for it to somehow reveal what she wished to know. Where would Wardens be? Nowhere near civilization, that’s for sure. They were notoriously reclusive and troublesome to the crown in the past, which made them unwelcomed in Ferelden.

 

“But the Wardens would never be willingly allied with Corypheus,” Josephine said. “He is an ancient darkspawn.”

 

Evelyn caught Leliana’s eyes and nodded slightly. Things were not as clear cut as Josephine believed.

 

“And Solona is among them,” Cullen said, frowning. “If the Wardens have vanished then-”

 

“I do not think Solona would be someone we worry for,” Leliana said, smiling at Cullen. “She’ll take care of herself. But this is of concern.”

 

“The Ball is in a month’s time,” Evelyn said. “I think we need to deal with this immediately.” She glanced at Hawke. “Thank you, Garret. If you see yourself to the Herald’s rest, we’ll have some lodgings prepared for you for the night.”

 

Hawke stood and bowed. “Perhaps we can have a drink later, Cullen,” he said. “For old times sake, now that you’re not actively trying to arrest me.”

 

“For the time being,” Cullen smiled. When the door shut behind Garret, he turned back to Evelyn. “You’re going to pursue this?”

 

“I don’t see how I can ignore it,” Evelyn sighed. “If Corypheus seeks to ally with the Wardens, by coercion or not, we cannot allow him access to such a powerful force. We’ve already lost the rebel mages.”

 

“Then we will continue to work on the ball,” Josephine said. “Our invitations are secured, the minutiae can be settled.”

 

“I’ll send Harding ahead to Crestwood,” Leliana said. “Perhaps we should take the chance to make our presence felt there. There have been troubling reports from that place. We should stabilize it.”

 

“Crestwood right on the North Road,” Cullen said. “Caer Bronach used to be the keep that guarded the road. I wonder if Bann Ulfric still holds it. Strategically, it is valuable.”

 

“All that after I speak to this Stroud,” Evelyn insisted. “We don’t know what we’re up against. It might be that the road is the least of our concerns. We’ve yet to find out where Corypheus is getting his demon army from, or if that beast he has is even an archdemon. In the meantime, I’ll leave with Garret in the morning. We’ll end the meeting here for now. We all have preparations to make.”

 

The advisors stood to leave. “If you’re not too busy, Cullen,” she said as they walked up. “Join us in the Rest later. Perhaps there’s more we can learn from Hawke.”

 

“Yes, bad puns and harbouring apostates,” Cullen said drily, shutting the door to the War room behind them. Once the door was shut, Evelyn seemed to soften, becoming more approachable.

 

 “You speak as if they’re equally horrible.”

 

“They are, trust me.”

 

++++

 

The Herald’s Rest was abuzz with news of the Champion of Kirkwall, sitting at a table surrounded by people. Evelyn entered to the gentle sound of Maryden’s lute and raucous laughter from Hawke’s table. She walked up to the table. The crowd parted to let her by. “Settling in nicely?” she asked Hawke. “Excuse us, everyone, I need to take the Champion from you for a moment.”

 

The crowd bowed slightly and walked away, leaving her alone with Hawke. “Stealing my agents from under me, Garret?” she grinned.

 

“You weren’t supposed to find out till I left,” he raised a cup at her.

 

She laughed and sat down with him..”You should buy a drink or seven for Varric. I just pulled Cassandra off him.” Flissa came up to her bearing a cask of Butterbile and a cup. “Thank you, Flissa.”

 

“Butterbile?” Garret smiled. “Surprising! I expected the Herald to be a pious, sober young lady.”

 

“I don’t have to be sober all the time,” she grinned, as their cups clanked together.

 

“How’s Varric?” Hawke asked.

 

“He’s fine. Things between him and the Seeker are rather strained. I think Cassandra isn’t pleased that you’ve been kept hidden.” She smiled at him. “You could have been the Inquisitor, you know.”

 

Hawke winced. “Maker forbid,” he said. “That would have made things awkward, seeing as I harboured the mage who started this whole mess.”

 

“Probably wouldn’t have done the same things I did,” Evelyn said.

 

“Would I have saved the Templars?” Hawke said thoughtfully. “I might have. I can see their purpose in our world, especially as a mage. It truly is a shame about the rebel mages. Their desire for freedom bound them to the very thing they proclaimed themselves able to resist in the first place.”

 

“Corypheus also apparently commands demons, somehow,” she sighed. “That’s why he has to die. A lot.”

 

“You’ll get no argument from me there,” Hawke said. “I think you’re doing well, by the way. I heard your story. You’ve come far.”

 

She chuckled and met his eyes. The man was charismatic. “I have,” she admitted, feeling familiar heat in her cheeks. She hoped it was from the butterbile. “It feels like it. My old self feels like ages ago.”

 

“Come, come, Inquisitor!” Hawke said expansively. “You’re so young. Still in the prime of youth, the flower of your beauty still blooming!”

 

Evelyn choked on her drink.

 

“The power at your fingertips makes kings tremble across Thedas as your eyes stop the sun as it pales before their glow!” Hawke went on.

 

She was blushing to the roots of her hair now as she laughed. “Maker’s tears, are you drunk?” she asked.

 

“Drunk in admiration for the Inquisitor, of course!” he said, raising his cup once more.

 

“You’re definitely drunk. Or finally gone crazy.” She lay a hand on his arm affectionately. No one had made her laugh with embarrassment like that in a while. “Stop it, please. This is good Butterbile, I don’t want to keep choking on it.”

 

“But it’s true!”

 

“It’s true that you could galvanize a city, Garret, you have that sort of amiable humour. Saying no to you would be like kicking a puppy!”

 

“Maybe that's the plan. Would the Inquisitor with the dazzling blue eyes like to play wicked grace?” He pulled a deck of worn cards from his belt pouch.

 

“You have blue eyes too.”’

 

“Exactly. I know what I’m talking about.”

 

Evelyn rolled her allegedly dazzling blue eyes and set her cup aside. “Deal, then, Garret. Maybe wicked grace would stop your mouth from moving."

 

Their game progressed. Evelyn was amazed at how easily Hawke enabled you to be friends with him. He had a way about him with people. She wondered if that would have changed if he had faced Envy or Corypheus. She pushed the thought of them from her minds and focused on the game. She couldn’t remember all the rules, but was able enough to surreptitiously swap a card or two to win a few hands. Coin was won and lost and the drinks flowed. The Tavern emptied until Hawke and Evelyn were the only ones left, still playing in the dimly lit tavern. Behind the bar, Flissa cleaned up the used glasses.

 

“I’m not betting my staff!” Evelyn insisted.

 

“Not confident of your hand?” Hawke drawled. “If you’d like to fold…”

 

“My hand is fine,” Evelyn smirked. “I’m just not betting my staff. You don’t touch another mage’s staff, Garret. It’s… not done.”

 

“Unless he takes you to dinner first, or perhaps a few drinks and a game of wicked grace?” he winked at her.

 

She blushed despite herself, realizing she was being wound up. “Two songs,” she said, laying down her cards.

 

Hawke sighed in resignation and opened his cards. Evelyn stared at them, not realizing she had thumped the table and stood up in frustration. “Full Serpents,” he growled as he gathered the coins on the table, humming infuriatingly.   

 

The door to the Tavern opened and Cullen entered. “What are you doing?” he asked.

 

“Garret is cheating!” Evelyn smiled wickedly at Hawke as she gathered the cards and sat back down. “I’m winning every coin back, Garret!”

 

“The Inquisitor does not like to lose,” Hawke noted mildly as Cullen sat down beside her on the bench. “Pity she cheats.”

 

“The Herald of Andraste never cheats,” Evelyn said loftily, shuffling the cards. “And I saw you roll your eyes at me, Commander!”

 

"I was merely getting Flissa’s attention,” he said mildly and waved to the girl. “Deal me in then. Might as well, since the Inquisitor is losing coin.”

 

Evelyn snorted, but dealt him in. Flissa came by with a plate of warm cut meats and bread, as well as an eating knife and a cup.

 

Evelyn filled his cup as he started to eat before looking at his cards. “What is this?” he asked, taking a sniff of the cup. Evelyn realized his scar moved when he chewed.

 

“It’s butterbile,” she replied, picking up her cards. “It’s a bit strong,” she added when Cullen started coughing as he lowered his cup. “Yes, go slow. This isn’t the quaffing sort of drink.”

 

“The Inquisitor drinks like Isabela, doesn’t she?” Hawke chuckled, idly holding his cards.

 

“Who’s Isabela?” she asked.

 

“A pirate captain we once knew,” Hawke replied. “Almost everyone once knew, right, Cullen?”

 

Evelyn glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Cullen was clearing his throat, his fist in front of his mouth. “Pirate captains, Cullen? How fascinating,” she said mildly.

 

“It wasn’t anything like that,” he cleared his throat once more, his fist in front of his mouth.

 

“Hm.”

 

“She did fancy you,” Hawken grinned.

 

“She fancied everyone,” Cullen said, picking up his cards.

 

“A man of the world, I see,” Evelyn chuckled.

 

“Did you know the Commander managed to turn quite a few heads in Kirkwall?” Hawke said, needling Cullen. “Even the apostates he arrested sometimes fell for him.”

 

“Now you’re exaggerating,” Cullen said, setting his cards down and continuing to eat. “And I know why you’re doing it, as well. You needle to find tells.”

 

“Would I do that, Commander?” Hawke blinked, dropping three silvers in the centre of the table. Evelyn matched his bet while Cullen raised it two more silver. “It’s nice to see you’ve moved on in the world. You could do a lot better here than chasing apostates and possessed Templars down.”

 

“I agree,” Cullen said. “The Inquisition can be a force for good. We’ve made headway at great cost. We must see this through and end Corypheus. Then we only have to deal with the Chantry and the nations of Southern Thedas.”

 

“One headache at a time, please,” Evelyn said, leaning against the wall behind her as she rearranged her hand. It wasn’t a bad hand. She dropped in two more silvers.

 

Hawke laughed. “I didn’t think you had more money to lose, Evelyn,” he grinned at her and matched her bet.

 

“There’s more at stake than money, Garret,” she purred. “I’m going to win this one.”

 

“Then I raise you a flagon of butterbile!” Hawke said, setting his empty cup on the table between them. “Loser downs it.”

 

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile. “Really? We’ll see how you feel about that when you ride out with a hangover tomorrow.”She thumped the table again and turned to wave her hand to the bar. “Flissa! Two more flagons and another cask of butterbile, if you please.”

 

Cullen was trying not to smile as he set down his cards. “Are you sure?” he asked her. “You’re riding out tomorrow as well.”

 

“But I won’t be hungover. Have faith,” Evelyn purred as Flissa brought two empty flagons and another cask. “Are you in, Commander?” she asked, her blue eyes catching his. “It’s just a flagon.”

 

“Maker’s breath! You know this stuff kills people,” he said.

 

“That’s how you know it’s good,” Evelyn grinned.

 

He shrugged, pushing his empty plate away. “I’m in then.”

 

“Commander Cullen, what cards have you got under there?” Hawke asked curiously. “Or are you just eager to see Evelyn drunk?”

 

“I’ll even raise.” He dropped another two silvers down.

 

“I don’t even have to try,” she smirked.

 

“Show us what you’ve got, then,” Hawke lay his cards down. Songs and Angels.

 

Evelyn dropped hers on the table with a flourish. “Full Serpents!”

 

Cullen snorted quietly and leaned back. “Perhaps you both might want to fill your glasses?” he asked. “Because I just won.” He set down a full set of knights.

 

Evelyn leaned over to look at his cards and then sighed in resignation. “At least I know you didn’t cheat,” she sat back down.

 

“I know how you feel,” Hawke added drily. They filled their flagons as Cullen watched smugly.

 

++++

 

Evelyn couldn’t walk straight, but could barely care. They had staggered out of the tavern long after Flissa had gone to bed. Skyhold was quiet now. Their game had been far more interesting with drinks in the mix and the butterbile stores had been severely depleted.

 

Hawke had been unbearably flattering all night, which Evelyn couldn’t help but like despite his praises growing even more outrageous as the alcohol wore on. “And so, the night wears on, Queen of Dragons,” Hawke bowed, catching his balance quickly. “May you find your rest - hopefully before I fall asleep under a bush somewhere.”

 

“Maker forbid!” Evelyn laughed as she lost her footing, an arm catching her around the waist from behind to keep her up. She paid it no mind as she waved at Hawke who headed off. She giggled, straightening up. “Queen of Dragons, my bum.”

 

“I hope not,” Cullen said. His face was completely red from the drink, but he was still the most steady of the three of them. He had quite a few good hands. “Come on, your majesty, let’s get you back to your quarters.”

 

“Couldn’t we go for a walk first?” Evelyn asked. “It’s a lovely night.”

 

“No, because I’m not sure we won’t both fall asleep under a cart,” Cullen admitted, catching her again as she nearly fell. “You shouldn’t have had so many,” he sighed.

 

“Neither should you,” she said, leaning against him, her fingers lacing around the sides of his breastplate as she tried to stay upright. She saw Cullen glance up at her tower in the distance, and then back to his, which was nearer. He looked at her a little uncertainly.

 

“I don’t mind,” she replied, trying to stand by herself. “Where would I be safest than with the Lion of Skyhold?”

 

He smiled slightly at that, chuckling despite himself. “Where did that come from?” he asked, leading her to the battlement stairs.

 

“Every serving girl and noble lady who sets eyes on you, Cullen,” she laughed. “You really didn’t know?”

 

“I really didn’t bother,” he admitted. “They’re not of any interest to me.”

 

“Then who is?”  

 

He did not answer, merely keeping a safe hold on her as they climbed higher, making sure she did not topple near the edge. At the top of the battlements, cool night air tossed her hair, helping to sober her up a little.

 

“You’re not answering the question, Cullen,” she said, stopping for a moment at the top of the walls. He was still holding her, his honeyed eyes thoughtful as the wind ran its fingers through the fur of his shawl. Unbidden, Evelyn was aware of the smell of the man, armour and leather and musk, spiced with the earthy aroma of butterbile. He was delicious and she felt the heat of desire rising in her.

 

She knew he cared for her as she did for him, but the words never came from either of them. Her eyes lowered to his breastplate, fingers awkwardly toying with the clasp that held his shawls in place. “Is it because I’m a mage?” she asked in a voice smaller than she expected.

 

“What? Why would -  Why would you ask that?” she heard him say.

 

“Because I know what happened to Ferelden’s Circle of Magi,” she murmured. “And… Cole said demons asked you things that hurt you, and-” Her face was burning with the drink and the blush. How he unwound her so. She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. “And I don’t blame you if-”

 

His lips closed on hers, the taste of him filling the universe from horizon to horizon. She could feel his stubble against her face as they kissed, his armour pressing into her even as his hands were tenderly holding her close. Her fingers curled against the back of his neck, pulling herself deeper into the kiss. When their lips parted, she looked up at him in surprise. He looked just as surprised as she did.

 

“Sorry- That was… really nice,” he began, then stopped himself. “I mean, you being a mage, it doesn’t mean anything to me.”

 

“Was that what the kiss meant?” she smiled slightly. “I’m not quite sure, it’s all quite a blur.”

 

He chuckled, his finger gently tucking a lock of her hair that caught on her wet lips. “You’re the Inquisitor,” he murmured. “And drunk. Perhaps we should… continue this when we both have our wits.”

 

She felt like swooning drunk both on butterbile and him. She didn’t allow herself to. She had that much pride in her at least, despite the drink. He led her up into his tower, where climbing the ladder to his sleeping quarters above his office was an adventure in itself that resulted in a lot of barely muffled laughter and clumsiness on both their parts. He managed to lower her onto his bed after a while. He leaned over her, his hands on either side of her as their air thickened between them.

 

Out of nowhere, she said, “I kept that blue dress.”

 

“Oh,” he smiled that half-smile of his, the scar moving to accent his grin. “Good.”

 

Evelyn’s eyes closed as their lips met once more. In the softness of his bed and the comfort of his arms, she fell into dreamless slumber, the best sleep she’d had in weeks.

 

 


End file.
